


NWS exchange prompt fills

by lostemotion (geckoholic)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:44:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/lostemotion
Summary: Collected fills for the 2016 NWS Exchange hosted by ravenbell-exchanges@tumblr. INDEX:Chapter 01: Raven/Bellamy college AU for pinkmistletoeChapter 02: Raven/Wells canon AU for wells-jahaChapter 03: gen future fic for ravenbellsChapter 04: Raven/Bellamy smut for raiindust





	1. college AU for pinkmistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raiindust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiindust/gifts), [semele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semele/gifts), [kingwellsjaha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingwellsjaha/gifts).



> Thanks so much to raiindust for all her help. <3 Also, I'm sorry these are all so short. Apparently The 100 is not an easy fandom for me right now. They're all over the required minimum though, so uhm, yay? XD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt _monty/miller + raven/bellamy + “my roommate is hooking up with your roommate can i sleep here please” AU_ for pinkmistletoe@tumblr. It ended up leaning towards Raven/Bellamy and just mentioning Monty/Miller, I hope that's okay.

The knock on his door manages to sound both hesitant and annoyed, and that fact alone informs him it can’t be Miller. Miller doesn’t _do_ hesitance. Besides, he wouldn’t knock, he’d just barge in; several mutually awkward incidents haven’t trained him out of the habit, and at this point Bellamy’s given up on arguing in favor of the old-fashioned, tried and true concept of announcing yourself before you enter a room. Even when it’s _your_ room. That you share with someone else. Because privacy isn’t hard to come by in that situation in the first place, or anything. After all, Bellamy grew up in a two-room-apartment with his mother and a younger sister, and he was actually looking forward to _more_ boundaries in regards to his personal space once he moved out to college. Well, little did he know.

But since he’s already established that it _can’t_ be Miller, Bellamy decides to post-pone the mental rant and props himself up on his elbows. He checks the digital clock between their beds, and whoa, 1:24 AM. Where is Miller anyway? They have class tomorrow. Though it’s not like Miller traditionally cares too much about that; he’s the type who subscribes to the make-hay-when-the-sun-shines approach when it comes to campus parties.

Another knock, this time less hesitant and more annoyed, and Bellamy switches the lamp on the bedside table on and swings his feet out of bed, still rubbing his eyes when he stands and pads to the door.

“What the hell is going on?” he demands before he’s even got it open all the way, launching into a lecture on the general principle of basic manners and how they do indeed also apply in a college dorm. “Do you have any idea what ti—“

That’s as far as he gets, because the girl peering up at him from the hallway looks very much like she knows perfectly well what time it is. She’s wearing her long brown hair in a messy pony-tail, clear and unmistakable bed head, and she’s clad in little else than an oversized t-shirt and a varsity jacket that kinda doesn’t look like it’s hers. Actually, on second glance, Bellamy’s pretty sure it’s belongs to Miller.

Bellamy blinks. “Okay. Seriously. What’s going on?”

She pushes past him into the room and looks around, frowns, then sits on the edge of Miller’s bed, which, now that she’s drawing his attention to it, Bellamy notices is untouched. “My roommate threw me out so he could screw your roommate without bystanders – not like I was keen to hang around for _that_ – and I needed to relocate. I figured you have a spare bed. So here I am.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says, because yeah, he can’t really argue with that. He’s been there. And she’s not wrong. “May I ask who your roommate is?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Monty. Cute, nerdy, Asian. Head over heels for your buddy from day one?”

That doesn’t ring a bell, but then again, Bellamy’s not exactly making an effort to stay up to date with Miller’s love life. He has better things to do with his time. Like, you know, studying. “Never heard of him.”

“Well, it was probably not as hard to miss for you as it was for me, then,” she concedes. “Because I’m the one he pestered non-stop about his crush. But still. I’d say it was rather noticeable.” She flops back on the bed and throws an arm over her forehead. “I’m Raven, by the way.”

“Bellamy,” he says, and just then realizes that he’s standing around in his own room like he’s waiting for the bus or something. Climbing back to bed, he adds, “History major, second year. You?”

“Engineering, first year.” She shrugs out of the jacket and throws it on the ground beside the bed with little care and an expression of clear disdain. Which is fair. The jacket may be blameless, but Miller surely earned that.

He almost leans over for a handshake, but decides that would be weird. “So, if you don’t mind… let’s get a few more hours of shut eye before classes start tomorrow?” he asks instead, and gestures towards the bedside lamp.

For the first time since she marched in here, her features relax, and she smiles a little. “Yes. Please.”

Bellamy smiles back, switches the lamp off, and fifteen minutes later he’s asleep again.

 

***

 

In the morning, he wakes to a tentative tap on his shoulder, and he owes it to years of Octavia climbing into his bed in the morning that he doesn’t flail at the unexpected touch.

Raven stands before him, awkwardly gesturing towards the bathroom. “I’m sorry, I just, uh. Do you have a spare toothbrush?” She rubs her temple, like she’s fending off a budding headache. “I mean, I could wait until I’m back in my room, but I forgot my phone so I didn’t have an alarm, and I’m already running late, and frankly, I’m pretty sure our two lovebirds will still be asleep and I’d like to spend as little time as possible in there and – “

“Uh sure,” Bellamy interrupts. “We should. Let me have a look real quick.”

He gets out of bed and marches into the bathroom, Raven trailing behind him. It takes some rummaging, but eventually he produces a pack of spare toothbrushes with two left, and holds it up, triumphantly. “There you go.”

“You’re my hero,” Raven informs him, grinning, and just then, daylight and all, Bellamy actually _sees_ her for the first time. She’s pretty, in an unobtrusive, natural way, and the grin makes her warm brown eyes shine. During the night, even more errand strands of hair have fallen from her pony tail, and he has the sudden but intense urge to brush them away.

He swallows as he realizes she’s about to go about her morning routine, and he’s standing in the way, even though, technically, this is his bathroom and he’d have every right to demand he go first. With a curt little wave, he excuses himself and closes the bathroom door behind himself, and it’s a good thing Miller isn’t here, because he’d never let him hear the end of _that_.

He decides to make good use of the time he’s got to himself while she’s in the bathroom and get dressed, but she’s quicker than he thought, which means when she emerges back into the main room, he’s busy buttoning his jeans and hasn’t gotten around to a fresh shirt yet.

Raven’s eyebrows go up, appreciatively, then she clears her throat and bends to retrieve Miller’s varsity jacket from the floor. “I, uh. I should go,” she says, wrapping it around her arm. “See you around?”

Bellamy nods. “Yep. Sure.”

She smiles and heads for the door, but she turns around, hand resting on the doorknob, before pulling it open. He can hear her mumble something, but doesn’t understand what she said, and while he’s still busy figuring out whether he should ask, she swivels around on her heels, walks up to him, and brushes a kiss against his cheek.

“Thanks for letting me stay here last night,” she says, and, before he can get a word in edgeways, hurries towards the door and slips into the hallway.

He touches a hand to his cheek, the place her lips touched, and breaks out into a grin of his own. He was going to read Miller the riot act when he gets back, but he might just thank him instead.


	2. Raven/Wells canon AU for wells-jaha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt _there’s this poem about math’s saddest love stories featuring parallel lines that will never meet. but the truth is parallel lines meet at infinity. they just take longer. so i want raven and wells first meeting in whatever universe (from au to canon to canon divergence). it can be sad (both of them can meet in death) it can be mindless fluff (both of them can meet for example at a wedding in another universe). i just want the first meeting of the lines that were parallel to each other for so long._ for wells-jaha@tumblr. Basically an AU in which Wells lives instead of Clarke. And then things happen differently but still the same way. Or something. XD

There are three people in the makeshift Delinquent camp who crashed to earth not for something they did, but for someone they love. Raven and Bellamy collide in a spectacular fashion; they’re all sparks and flashes, explosions and gunfire. Raven and Wells… well for a long time they don’t collide at all.

And yet, they‘re the ones who end up leaders. She finds it fitting, and hilarious, in the way that the universe is funny sometimes.

 

***

 

She watches him out of the corner of her eye, sometimes. At first she thinks he did not inherit his father’s penchant for leadership; he’s calm where Thelonious thundered, he’s deferential where his father was commanding. Wells Jaha does not like to be in charge.

With time, Raven realizes that doesn’t mean he _shouldn’t_ be in charge.

He offers advice mostly when asked, but whenever he does, it’s right on the money. He doesn’t make grand declarations or sweeping speeches, but he fixes the little things in the background. He talks to people and his reasoning is very rarely disputed.

 

***

 

Raven continues to make explosions. Bridges and armies alike go up in flames she concocted. There’s a certain irony, she thinks, to the fact that what nearly takes her out is something as small and random as a stray bullet. There’s pain and it’s bright red, there’s anger and it’s white hot, and then there’s darkness.

When she wakes, she’s not in the dropship anymore. The Ark is on the ground. Bellamy, she hears, is in custody. Their delinquents are missing, and Wells is missing right along with them, their accidental trinity strewn all over the ground. 

 

***

 

Less than half of their flock of one hundred and two is left when Wells leads them out of the mountain. He does so flanked by two Grounder women; Anya and Echo. Maybe that’s his new trinity, maybe that’s the way all things go. Raven doesn’t get around to mourning his assimilation into a new way of life, a new circle of friends; they all have plenty of _people_ to mourn, and he is, after all, still alive. Instead she clings to Bellamy, and even though out of the three of them he’s the only one who reason for plunging to the ground is still breathing, he clings right back.

But they’re fire and explosions; they burn bright and hot, and eventually they’re left with embers. They were never meant to last.

 

***

 

The Ark becomes Arkadia, another war is fought and sort of won, in whichever way the loss of life for a concept, a cause, can ever be called winning. They all return with a few more notches in their bedposts and lot more dead bodies haunting them in their sleep, friends and enemies alike.

But return they do, all three of them, and at the end of the day Raven is grateful for that, at least.

 

***

 

Leadership eventually finds Wells. Not in Arkadia – after all that’s happened, all that went wrong while they left the reins to the so-called adults, the generation who plunged them to the ground in the first place, not many people stay there. The group that leaves for the shore, to establish a camp in liaison with Luna’s rig, doesn’t consist of only Delinquents.

They have a vote. Bellamy abstains. Raven offers her council, but doesn’t quite feel like carrying the world on her shoulders anymore. Wells looks to both of them, straightens his back, and he accepts.

 

***

 

It happens slowly. Glances that linger longer than they used to, fleeting touches. Discussions over fields and life stock – civilized and calm, because Wells isn’t Bellamy and Raven doesn’t feel the need to rub herself raw on him – that keep them up all night and find them asleep on each other’s shoulder in the morning.

Raven isn’t even sure when it starts. She simply turns her head one day and he’s there, looking at her with those serene dark eyes, a few more lines around them than when they met, and they have become something else, something more, something undeniable. She burrows closer and smiles, and he leans in.

On second thought, they don’t collide, as such. They align, and they settle, and they _belong_.


	3. gen future fic for ravenbells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt _Bellamy Blake + power. It can be his time as a cadet, his grab for power on the ground, or a future situation in which he’s already a mature person when he wields power again_. There were two more fills I have started but that will, uh, probably not see the light of day. /o\ I hope this, at least, pleases. :)

The first generation of former Sky People born on the ground is, in some regards, fundamentally different to those that fell from the orbit. They know only this new – or well, old, depending on where one stands – way of life: a fragile democracy, wide lands, and relations to neighboring clans that aren’t outright war but also nowhere near stable. They played on green fields and stalked wild animals in the forests for fun. They make trips to the see and the mountains. Some of them have large families, siblings, cousins, and in another generation there will be many aunts and uncles. Some people thought, back when they first arrived, that things would get easier by the time their children would be lining up to take charge.

Bellamy never had such misconceptions.

Maybe he owes his sober world view to the fact that his mother versed him in history, that he grew up reading stories of long-gone civilizations that still mirrored the exact kind of conflicts they faced in their present. Human nature doesn’t change. The framework might, the circumstances. Nothing but the same story in a different context, perpetually repeating itself. And right now, what he sees repeated is his own story.

He knows who the boy’s parents are, in that way everyone in a small community sort of knows the other’s names and faces. They were never part of their makeshift government, quiet people from Farm Station, happy tending to their own strip of actual _land_ in the village that grew around the old Ark. But the boy – he has _opinions_. The boy thinks he could do better, advertises for a deeper level of inclusion with the Grounders, a stronger alliance. He might even be right; Bellamy has never claimed he knows the best solution in every situation, has long since admitted to himself and everyone else that he’s flawed, imperfect, and sometimes wrong.

But for the moment he’s still in one of the people in charge. For the moment, the peace and quiet in their community is still partly his responsibility. And there are other ways to achieve a desired change than screaming from rooftops and _demanding_ it.

The boy marches into Bellamy’s cabin with his head held high and his chin jutted out in clear, unmistakable challenge. All bravado and righteous indignation; Bellamy would have expected nothing less. He nods at the chair in front of his desk.

“Sit,” he says, keeping his tone authoritative but not threatening. “Connor, right?”

Connor nods, but folds his hands behind his back and plants his feet. “I’d rather stand,” he replies.

Suppressing a smile – should he really be heading for leadership, he’ll eventually learn that you don’t have to make _everything_ a battle, all that does is sap your strength for when it’s needed the most – Bellamy nods. “Suit yourself.”

He leaves him hanging for a few moments, studying the boy’s posture, his face; body coiled too tight, expression is hard and confrontational, but still very much one of a child expecting to be chided by an adult.

“I have an offer for you,” he says, and that expression changes, replaced by a look of utter surprise.

The boy’s stance shifts, and he swallows. He came in here expecting confrontation and punishment. He doesn’t know what to do with being met halfway. “You… what?”

After all they went through in the early days, Bellamy fiercely believes that the worst thing that can happen to a community is a bunch of elders who cling to their old ways, cling to power like it defines their worth and surrendering it would render them useless. Power shouldn’t be a birthright; it shouldn’t be claimed or extorted, it should be _earned_ and freely given. He learned that lesson the hard way, and their path to that particular enlightenment is littered with bodies. Jaha, Kane, the rest – their intentions were good, but their methods, their approach, was a disaster.

“Yes,” Bellamy confirms now. “There’s a project we’re considering, on the border. A marketplace, of sorts. We thought you might be the right person to oversee the development and review our plans, talk with the neighboring clans, the works. You could probably call it an ambassador.”

The plans for that marketplace have been on the table for months. No one has yet set about furthering them, making it a reality. Now, Bellamy figures, is as good a time as any. He’ll talk to the others later, lay out his reasoning and present them with his choice for the middleman.

Connor’s mouth falls open. He catches himself fast, swallows and shifts his feet yet again, but it’s obvious he’s thrown for one hell of a loop. “I, uh. Thank you, sir?”

Bellamy doesn’t mind the questioning tone, the mild suspicion. He’d have reacted the same way, in the boy’s shoes, way back when. Expect ulterior motives and deceit. But those aren’t the old times, and Bellamy is not that kind of leader. None of them are, not anymore. Or so he hopes.

“Be back here tomorrow morning,” he says, meeting the boy’s gaze and finally allowing himself a small smile for both their sake. “I’ll show you the place we have in mind. For now, you’re dismissed.”

Connor stands there for a few more seconds, not quite gaping but staring at Bellamy like he _wants_ to, and then he briefly smiles back, gives a quick, shoddy salute, and turns on his heels without another word.


	4. Raven/Bellamy smut for raiindust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt _Let me tell you something, before you go getting the wrong idea in your head: I never minded your bloodstained fingertips. All the sinning in the world wouldn’t have stopped me from loving you._ which is totally in there, kinda, somehow, I swear. I did have it in mind writing, in any case? Set vaguely post S3, but really, it's mostly just smut.

Raven wakes when it's still dark outside; she doesn't know the natural circle of day and night well enough yet to parse how long she's been asleep. Given that the moon had been already clear and bright and round in the sky when she retired to Bellamy's room, however, it can't have been for long. He's lying next to her, on his back, and doesn't move a muscle. But that doesn't have to mean anything. 

She listens in the dark for the cadence of his breathing, finds it irregular and everything but calm. She props herself up on her elbows, and yes, sure enough, there he is, looking back at her, wide awake. 

“Hey,” he says as their eyes meet. 

Raven doesn't reply. She leans in and seals her lips to his by the way of saying good morning. Or good night. Or whatever it is right now. 

“Did you sleep at all?” she asks, and the very moment he starts shifting, drawing her in, she knows he won't answer. 

It's not like she needs confirmation; she's perceptive, she can do maths, and she knows Bellamy. And that equation has a very clear solution. All day he's been out with what used to be the Guard, checking the woods for survivors, wayward Sky People or Grounders who were left in a bad spot after ALIE's control broke. Raven knows the path they take on their way home, every day; knows what happened in these places, knows what he'll see when he closes his eyes. 

She purses her lips and clicks her tongue, puts a hand square on his chest to halt him. “You need sleep. A few hours, you have to at least _try_.” 

Bellamy smiles, and she can't quite see his face in the dark, can't make out more than a vague silhouette, so she can't know if it reaches his eyes. She hopes so, but she also knows better. 

“It'll help,” he says, leaning in to brush his lips against her shoulder, peering up at her through his lashes. “It'll help me fall asleep, after.” 

While Raven knows that to be true – it's a very predictable thing, the male orgasm – she also knows it's a distraction. For him, for her. For both of them. 

But she doesn't resist any further when he slides a hand between their bodies, not wasting any time, fingers rubbing parting her folds and rubbing her clit with practiced confidence. He's as familiar with her body by now, knows all the right buttons to much, and it's not long until she's moaning under his touch. Then he's drawing back, and the loss of contact has her giving a petulant pout in order to register her disapproval. 

Leaning in for a kiss, quick but deep, filthy, all tongue and little finesse, he runs the palm of his hand over her hips and tugs at her underwear, and yes, okay, Raven can keep her eyes on the prize here. She lifts her ass so he can pull her panties down her legs and off, and while he's throwing that to the floor and getting rid of his own clothes, she sheds her t-shirt and moves fully onto her back, legs spread, eyebrows raised in invitation and challenge alike. 

It's a challenge he'll always, always take, and before she knows it his body is covering hers and he's mouthing down her neck, her collarbone, around the swell over her breasts. Raven groans, in arousal and frustration both, arches her back in attempt to get his mouth closer to where she wants it right now, but he doesn't seem to plan on letting himself be rushed. He takes his sweet time, and when he finally deigns to suck an already hard, puckered nipple into his mouth, she has to screw her eyes shut against the sweet pleasure of it. The other nipple gets its due attention too, clever swirls of his tongue, a hint of teeth, but Raven quickly grows impatient again. She closes her legs around his middle, pressing, circling her hips. They're close enough together that she can feel him, hardness digging into her, almost there but not _quite_ , and she knows she's got him when he stills and realigns himself between her legs, coming up for another deep kiss. He reaches down, adjusting the angle, and then he's sinking into her, slowly, ever so slowly, like he's savoring every bit of the sensation. His gaze seeks hers, there in the dark, and then he's moving, bottoming out, drawing back, then thrusting all the way in. 

They're both tired and exhausted and there's no points to gather for endurance like this, so it doesn't last long. He fucks her with little regard towards elegance or creativity, but there's skill and familiarity aiding his efforts, and soon she's biting down on a cry as she comes, and he doesn't follow far behind. 

He kisses her once more, a little less urgently but still anything but tame, and then he's rolling off her and onto his stomach, breathing hard. Raven can see him open his mouth, and she reaches out and put a finger against his lips before he's got the chance to get a word out. 

“If you thank me for this,” she warns,” I'm going to kick you right out of this bed and have you sleep on the floor.” 

He huffs and feigns biting her finger, but he stays quiet, and Raven snuggles up close against him, running her fingertips along the nobs of his spine. He shivers and shifts, turns his head so it rests on his folded arms. 

“Sleep now,” she says. “Close your eyes and _sleep_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://lostemotion.tumblr.com).


End file.
